Adrenaline
by Mitchie Love
Summary: The thing was, he never did well in teams or group projects. He hated group projects and more importantly, he hated everyone. Stuart-centric. One-shot.


In high school, he always got picked last for teams. In fact, the class being an uneven number, the jocks actually fought over who would be unfortunate enough to get him. It wasn't that he couldn't do sports; it was that he just didn't care about them. He stood in the middle of the field staring at the ground or staring at his phone if the teacher wasn't looking. The thing was, he never did well in teams or group projects. He hated group projects and more importantly, he hated everyone. Maybe it was because they all made fun of him and his oversized glasses and his total lack of grace in social situations, or maybe some of it was his fault. He was too shy to speak to anyone, so they all assumed he was stuck up. He only spoke up in class and was way too curious to stop asking the teacher questions.

He could do so much better on his own. He begged the teachers to work alone for projects. Most said no, but a few let him do it. Either way, he did all the work and purposely made his partner look like a complete idiot. Most of the time he warned them he'd just do everything, he was too much of a control freak to work with anyone. Bill Gates said it—it's a competitive world. If he waited around for any of these idiots to do something for him, he'd end up starving. He had to steal the bread if he wanted it. That was the truth.

It was the statistics that terrified him. Just by Googling, he knew that going to college might be his best shot, but it wasn't a sure shot. What if he ended up still living in his parents' house? Goodness, he'd shoot himself if that happened. Some classes were too easy for him, though. He spent them on his phone (surprise, surprise) googling the deeper answers or playing on some stupid app on his phone.

He planned the whole Google thing since High School. That's why he dreaded finding out the internship would involve him having to work in teams. At first he thought he could get away with refusing to work with anyone, and somehow hope that all these desperate sharks found a group and left him alone. Surely he could win all the challenges by himself, right?

Nope.

He got put with the leftovers. With the two forty-something year-old guys that had no business being here. With the weird anime girl. With the dork who got breastfed until he was seven. Great. He was doomed. He could say goodbye to the job at Google. To his future. That night he prayed to God to forgive his phone vice and to please not have him still live with his parents at forty. He would do anything. Really. _Anything_.

The other kids were on the same page as him, though. So yeah, their team leader was too pushy and everyone possibly hated each other on the team, but that was okay, right? They wouldn't have to see anymore of each other once the internship was over. Whether they got the jobs or not. Besides, they wanted to get rid of the other two, sending them on an odyssey to find a falsely named programmer. He was astounded they didn't get the reference of a bald-headed professor in a wheelchair. And of course, the lost that challenge.

Just like the Quidditch one. He had to Google half of the terminology Lyle was spitting out, causing him to get hit over the head with a ball. They pulled off seventy points in the end, but lost to freaking Graham when no one got the… That thing he didn't google. Hell, he understood the eighties references better (maybe because he was a bit of a junkie at one point or because he happened to google about those movies at some point) than he did quafflepuffing.

Then came the app issue. Surely they'd lose again to Graham. God, his accent was annoying. Where the hell was he from, anyway? Cambridge University?

He had, though, (no understatement, sadly) the best night of his life that day. And he wondered, after looking up three inches and being introduced to the first stripper he'd seen up close, how many things he's missed in his life. And okay, maybe, ideally, drinking and partying with strippers wasn't what he thought would be his version of fun, but it really was the best night of his life. He was quiet; he always had been quiet, despite the snarkiness. Blame it on being too absorbed in his little screen, or blame it on his lack of grace, but he never had many friends. And for the first time, he felt like he had them. Because this, this was the stupid thing his roommate was doing when he stayed in the dorm studying. He was having fun.

Of course he had drinks before, but he never got to this side of himself. The type to actually get in with the strippers and dance with Neha and Yoyo, or the type to get lap dances. He never saw the crazy drunk side of himself, where he stayed away from his phone, where he punched someone in the face and got into a whole fight and was somehow incredibly pumped up about it ("You're sure having a miserable time, kid!"). It was such an adrenaline and he loved it. And he swore if anyone just stood in front of him, he'd kiss them or some shit he'd never, ever do, because this was the best fucking night of his _life_. Even getting thrown out didn't break his spirits. Goodness, he could keep going all freaking night, but then they stopped at the bridge, and it was nice, the whole view. To think he had been there thousands of times with his parents, and never had he bothered to look up.

And he admitted it. Out loud. This was the best day of his life. Hell, this might have even made his year, but he wouldn't admit his life was_ that_ pathetic. And hey, the hangover was totally worth it.


End file.
